Ladies, gentlemen, and anyone still sober enough to read this, Bobtoberfest 2025 was an absolute triumph of chaos, laughter, and questionable judgment. This year’s edition will go down in history as the one where past favorites crumbled spectacularly. In fact – 4 of the top 5 beers were brand-new entrants, proving that just because a beer has been adored for years doesn’t mean it’s safe from humiliation in the face of fresh, bold, slightly dangerous brews.

At the end of the day, Prost Malone by Headflyer Brewing strode to victory like a caffeinated monarch, leaving all other contenders sobbing quietly in their foam. Truly, one beer reigns supreme. Scoresheets were brutally honest, as always:

• “I am going to be mad if this is something I buy” – Erin, probably speaking for all of us.

• “Tastes like toilet water” – Jaz, clearly an expert on fine things.

• “Dave’s butthole itches” – Accurate, horrifying, yet somehow informative – no one is entirely sure what this has to do with beer, but it’s on record now.

The humans behind the madness contributed equally. Bob spent half the day arguing over pour technique, Ryan attempted to explain “foam dynamics” while clearly making it up as he went, and Jaz continued his suspicious obsession with male genitalia, which somehow became a running theme throughout the tasting. Travis and Nels got into a heated debate over whether sour beers should be considered aggressively friendly, while Joan quietly judged everyone with the sort of calm disdain that can only come from decades of experience supervising children. And, of course, Dave’s Not Here — a statement that somehow became a rallying cry for chaos.

Steve made a surprise appearance, brandishing flyers for his so-called Athletic Oktoberfest, insisting it was the “true champion of festivals.” No one believed him, and he was quickly distracted by a heated debate about whether sausages are legally required to be cooked to perfection at a festival of this caliber.

Other highlights:

• Food was consumed with reckless abandon.

• Dave pitched next year as Cocktoberfest, a name we all deeply regret not vetoing immediately and are now in therapy over.

• The weather was stunning, ensuring our beer-fueled shenanigans were at least somewhat enjoyable.

• And yes… everyone missed Brad. His absence left a void that no amount of Prost Malone could fully fill.

• The can coozie number system this year was bizarrely confusing, leaving everyone squinting, second-guessing, and generally feeling uncomfortable and mildly judged by their own beverage.

In short, Bobtoberfest 2025 was a ridiculous, unforgettable, and slightly horrifying success. Prost Malone may have taken the crown, but the real winners were the stories, the groans, the snickers, and the memories that will be retold with exaggeration for years to come. One thing is clear: no matter what Steve says about his Athletic Oktoberfest, here at Bobtoberfest, chaos reigns, and one beer truly rules them all.

Prost!